


...But Not Broken

by Eratoschild



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Afterlife, Carbuncle as psychopomp, Chill XV, First Date, First Time, Ignoct White Day Gift Exchange 2018, M/M, Reincarnation, Secret Marriage, Soulmates, They almost get caught, canon character death, secret romance, soul mark, starts out sad but I swear it will get better, tags to be updated as I go, unwitting blood magic- not detailed, unwitting magic, unwitting sex magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-05-01 19:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14527383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eratoschild/pseuds/Eratoschild
Summary: It's never been a matter of falling in love; that's been the state of things since time immemorial. It's only ever been a matter of finding each other. Time, and again, and again.Note: Starts with the canon ending of the game in the first chapter. There will be some degree of angst as the story goes on but at this point, the first chapter is the worst of it. If you can make it through that, you'll be good.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written as a pinch hit for the Ignoct White Day 2018 Gift Exchange. The request was to use any of the following prompts:  
> \- fate swap au (e.g. chosen king!ignis/kingsglaive!noct; oracle!noct/infernian!ignis; etc.)  
> \- sleeping beauty au  
> \- soulmate au where marks glow with physical contact between mates  
> \- brotherhood era/pre-game first date (bonus if they have to keep it on the down low bc theyre not supposed to date)  
> \- reincarnation au (post-game or completely unrelated to the game story is up to you)  
> \- a/b/o au with alpha!ignis/omega!noct (if you're comfortable with it; nsfw not necessary)  
> \- ignis and noct getting married in secret before the events of altissia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s at too much of a loss to do anything more but go to Ignis, to find his scarred wrist, to bring both of theirs together and wrap his other hand around them as if his ghostly touch could be some sort of promise, a bond that could transcend time and death.

_It's never been a matter of falling in love; that's been the state of things since time immemorial. It's only ever been a matter of finding each other. Time, and again, and again._

“It's finally over.”

As his almost lifeless body pitches forward on the throne, they run in. He's slipping away into the new-breaking light but somehow, just as they reach him, just as his last thread is severing, he manages to speak. A handful of broken syllables escape. Is that understanding of what he's trying to say that he sees on Ignis's face? All he can do is hope that it is. 

And then, there is a flash of light. Two lights. In an instant. Can Gladio and Prompto see? He doesn’t know, but if they can, they won’t be able to see the points of origin. If they can, they will undoubtedly dismiss it as a trick of light. Ignis knows, because he is one of the origins, as is Noctis himself. He feels it emanating from an old scar. Noctis feels it as well. Green light, from a scar on his wrist, blue, from a mirroring scar on Ignis’s wrist. In that last moment, in that very final instant, he recalls something that Ignis said long ago, something he’d forgotten, he’s sure they both have. But he now remembers, and knows it to be true. And he knows that Ignis understands, or will, when the pain of the dawn has dulled with time. 

_“There was something more…than a mere promise of love to each other.”_

He could be at peace now. Could be, but he won’t because they can’t. Ignis can’t, will never allow himself to be.

And then from outside himself, he can see Ignis as he collapse over his abandoned shell, soundless and shaking. He can see Prompto's head fall back as he screams with rage. He can see Gladio heft his sword over his head and bring it crashing down at the floor, even as it's disintegrating in his hands. He wants to go to them, wants to comfort them, but he can do so no more than the fading night can comfort the dawn.

He hears a voice, another voice not of Gladio or Prompto…or Ignis. “Come now,” it says, “It is not good for them if you linger here right now.”

He turns to the source and sees nothing. Until he looks down. The tiny creature with velvet blue-white fur, eyes of infinite depth, and a horn of ruby looks at him almost sorrowfully, then to them. “They will mourn, all of them, more than you can begin to fathom,” the creature says quietly.

“No less than I am for being torn from them.”

“No less, and much more.”

The creature can see the questions in his eyes. “You know who I am. You’ve always known me.”

A name appears on his tongue, unbidden.

“Carbuncle.”

“There is much that you know now that they do not, and more that you will see soon. It allows your grief to lay lighter, and will lighten it further still. Come.”

“I’m not ready.”

“You never will be. They never will be, not as long as we stay here. They must be allowed to move on from this moment but do trust that they will never move on from _you_.”

“Just a minute…please…”

Carbuncle nods, “I’ll give you a moment.” The statement was so finite, he knows that it's all he has now.

He looks around at them, not sure what to do, he can’t speak to them, can’t touch them in any meaningful way. It occurs to him this last moment is purely for himself. As this reality hits him, his hand comes to his mouth, he freezes. He can feel Carbuncle counting the seconds behind him.

He’s at too much of a loss to do anything more but go to Ignis, to find his scarred wrist, to bring both of theirs together and wrap his other hand around them as if his ghostly touch could be some sort of promise, a bond that could transcend time and death. No doubt, a foolish wish. He’s not sure if he’s just hopeful enough to imagine it, but it seems that something in Ignis stirs- nothing he’s in any state to be conscious of now, but something lying below the surface, something to go with his previous certainty that Ignis would understand in time. But where are these thoughts coming from? What will he understand?

Could this be what Carbuncle is speaking of? He takes his hand away, brushes a kiss over Ignis’s scar, traces the ones on his face for the final time. He memorizes every jagged edge and inflection of the color of his skin. When he can do no more, he stands. When he turns to follow Carbuncle, the creature is again facing him.   
  
“Come now,” he says, not ungently. “I will show you everything. But first, there is a standard order of business which you are no doubt expecting to take place.”

Carbuncle leads him from the throne room, and from the world he knows. The sound of three voices, cursing and screaming as if they themselves wished to die, ring endlessly in his ears.

And then, his life flashes in his eyes, just like people always say it does, though he’s heard that it happened at the very moment of death. But who comes back to report the tale accurately? 

He sees everything he wants to remember, to hold forever and everything he never wanted to begin with. When it’s passed like a movie ending, he wonders for a second, has it been a few seconds or has it played out as if in real time, he’ll never know, he doesn’t care. It begins again, this time only the moments he wants to see. And then again, narrowing further in focus: only moments of Ignis. As they play, Carbuncle starts to speak. Noctis is barely listening, transfixed on his memories. He nods along but surely he will have to ask for a repeat later.

He reaches out, tries desperately to touch- can he hold this scene or that for just a minute before it passes? How could he have forgotten so many of these things? 

“You hold the power to slow it down. It’s only your own mind doing what you expect it to.”

Another moment slipping past. He doesn’t know which to pull close and hold to again. Surely he has time for all of them but which first? This one? Or this one….


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This will have to be a secret, but as he turns around in Ignis's arms and looks up into pale, starlit green eyes, he's at peace with keeping it hidden for now. There's a bit of a thrill to the idea of a secret romance between a prince and his advisor anyway."

_He's still in high school, sixteen? Seventeen? They're on the roof of his apartment building. Ignis stands behind him, arms wrapped around, Noctis’s hands covering his and he's leaning back into Ignis as they gaze up at the stars- the ones that can be seen from here anyway. “Are you glad I talked you into this?”_

_“This” is their first date. Noctis is the Prince, Ignis is an employee of the Crown with absolute security clearance. “This” is improper in at least a dozen different ways. “This” is what Noctis has longed for- and he knows Ignis has as well. The only difference is that he has ben persistent in his pursuit, Ignis has held back. He’s been the one who dared to ask, to cajole. He's prepared to beg but that proves miraculously unnecessary. They both have much to lose, but he knows the risk for Ignis is greater. Somehow, Noctis has finally managed to convince him that they can defy proprieties._

_“I suppose I am, yes,” Ignis replies softly._

_Despite his resistance finally caving, he is still conflicted; Noctis knows this. He also knows that they share the same feelings, and, ultimately, where Ignis’s loyalty lies: with him. This will have to be a secret, but as he turns around in Ignis's arms and looks up into pale, starlit green eyes, he's at peace with keeping it hidden for now. There's a bit of a thrill to the idea of a secret romance between a prince and his advisor anyway. He leans forward, tentatively, until lips meet lips, barely touching. He's sure the pounding of his heart is harder against Ignis's chest than their kiss against his mouth. They break apart briefly, and come back together, firmly, solidly. They’ve discarded delicacy but not yet move onto indecency._

_Their romance plays out in a hundred rooftop stargazing dates, stolen kisses in back hallways of the Citadel, and barely perceptible intimacies: a look that lingers a second too long, a brush of fingers across skin under the hem of a shirt, one knee leaning into another under the table at dinner._

_On occasion, Noctis manages to drag Ignis into his old suite in the Citadel, after a weekend training session, or having snuck out of a state event. How many times they fall on his old bed together, artlessly, desperately pulling at clothes, groping underneath them, their kisses a hurried clash of tongues and lips and teeth._

_The one time they forget to lock the door is the one time their furtive meeting coincides with the arrival of Citadel cleaning staff. It’s the first time they’ve dared to undress here. Thankful for the suite’s anteroom, Ignis is just able to roll off of the far side of the bed and onto the floor while Noctis pulls back the covers on the bed and dives underneath, explaining to the surprised maid that he is having a nap after his training that day and that they are free of their duties to clean his suite that day. After that incident, they always keep their clothing on (mostly) and always (almost) lock the door._

_Eventually a few others find out._

_Prompto doesn't think anything odd to walk into Noct's apartment and find them napping together. It's not even unusual to find them tangled together. What he doesn't expect is to find them naked._

_Gladio has long noticed the looks when they think the other isn't looking. When he catches them unabashedly making eyes when they think no one else is watching, he knows something is up._

_In time, they come to suspect that Cor knows, there's little he misses. But if the Marshal is any the wiser, he never lets on._

_Their secret is safe, but they remain cautious._

_When they consumate the relationship, Noctis is now reduced almost to begging. Though their hands and mouths know every inch of the other’s body, there's one threashold yet to cross. It's been nearly a year, Ignis has been reluctant, there still a fear of discovery, a fear that if it's found out that he's sullied the virgin prince, the consequences will be far more dire._

_The night it happens, they've shared one kiss too many, allowed touches to linger moments too long. Noctis has maneuvered them so that Ignis is on top of him, he's writhing under his solid weight. Sweat-dampened hair clings to both their faces and he could swear he's about to fall into an abyss of lust-blown green._

_“Take me already, I'm sick of waiting,” he breathes in a ragged voice._

_“Noct, I- we, we can't.”_

_“Nothing is going to happen. No one is going to find out. And even if they do, do you really think, at this point that it's going to make anyone care one iota more because I've had your cock in me?”_

_Ignis was taken aback. “That's...rather vulgar.”_

_“Specs, I don't care. This is vulgar too: fuck me. Do it fast, do it slow. Whatever. I don't care. Just do it already. I promise the world won't end.”_

_Ignis's eyes fly wide open, and then flutter closed as he processes the words. After several seemingly interminable seconds, he lets out a long breath and nods._

_He’s slow and gentle, almost infuriatingly so. But true to his word, Noctis doesn't care. He nearly cries when orgasm finally takes him, Ignis following only a moment later._

_As they regain their bearings, Noctis pulls Ignis into another kiss. “See? The world didn't end “_

_To their knowledge, no one else ever does find out. That is, until it's too late to matter._

 

The memories play and there's another he needs to cling to...


	3. Chapter 3

_“Marry me?” He begs Ignis somewhere on the trip to Altissia._

Looking back, he doesn't remember where they'd been at the time, only that they’d left Gladio and Prompto at camp to bathe in a secluded pond. They had just left the water and were partially dressed.

_His plea is desperate. “There are ways to do it, you know, ourselves, and when all of this is over, we’ll...we’ll figure out something.” He shakes his head and shrugs helplessly._ _“_ _It wouldn’t be legally recognized, but I don’t care._ _”_

_It's clear in his eyes, a longing to say yes as great as Noctis’s need for him to. But Ignis is Ignis and he hesitates. Propriety or some other duty-bound concern, no doubt._

_Noctis goes over to Ignis, lays his hands on his chest and gazes up at him, eyes imploring. “Nothing that's happened since we left on this Six-damned trip has been by my choice. Or yours."_

_"Noct-” Ignis starts, bringing a hand to his cheek, caressing with a thumb_

_Noctis stops him, one hand over his. “I know you can't tell me that you wouldn't do it if 'propriety’- or whatever you want to throw as an objection- wasn't a concern. You wouldn't give it a second’s thought. But if you can look me in the eye and tell me you honestly wouldn't, well... if you can, you need to do it now.”_

_He couldn't._

_“This is a ritual or um, a ceremony,” Noctis says, handing him a ragged photocopied page he'd taken from his pocket._

_“You’ve been thinking about this for some time,” Ignis says softly as he takes the paperand reads it over for himself._ _Obviously so-_ _the print has rubbed off where the pages are creased, evidence of countless foldings and unfoldings; how many times had he stared at the content and almost shown it to Ignis, only to stop himself? And there has been nowhere he could have obtained the copy on their trip. “Where did you get this?”_

_“The Royal Archives."_

_“Noct-“ Ignis starts again. Again, Noctis interrupts him._

_“Don't say we can't. Don't even think about it."_

_"Ignis's eyes flutter closed for a moment, he takes a long, soft breath before opening them and speaking again. “Six help me, I merely meant to ask if you are certain that it is something you truly wish to do. It is evidently more than a mere impulse, but-“_

_"I need this. I think you do too but tell me if you don’t want to or if you can’t. I won't force you. But for once, just shut up about your concerns for me. I’m king now, if you haven’t heard. If I can deal with that, I think I can deal with this. It’s…not like I don’t already love you or like I haven’t for as long as I can remember. It’s not like I could wake up tomorrow or next week or in fifty years and not love you. Please.”_

_Ignis doesn't speak again, but nods his assent._

_There is power in the words but neither realize just how much until it’s already taking hold. Until they'd bound their right wrists with two long strips of cloth torn from one of Noctis's shirts. Two so they could each have one. Years later, their final night would find each of them winding one of the same strips around the other’s wrist, tying it and tucking in the ends of the knots, wearing them into that fateful dawn. But neither have any idea of that now.They've smeared them with a bit of each of their blood, taken from small cuts on their wrists made by Ignis, the letter “I” on Noct’s wrist, an “N” on Ignis’s. Noctis worries that cuts on their wrists would be too dangerous, but of course Ignis knows how to cut and where, how to do it safely. Until Noctis has already spoken half of his words. Until it can't be stopped. He feels something take root in him, feels it start from the tiny cut on his wrist, grow and hold like a vine through his nerves, his veins. Ignis can feel it too, he can see it in his eyes._

_“I-I'm not ready to go back yet.” He almost whispers the confession. “I just...want some more time with you alone. A little longer? I need to let this sink in.” Ignis had brushed the hair out of his face and nodded with a soft smile before drawing him closer, free arm around Noctis’s waist, their bound hands between them, fingers laced together. Eyes closed, Ignis brought them to his lips, kissed both their knuckles softly._

_“I believe the same would be good for me as well.”_

_Something occurs to him. “Isn’t is customary to um…you know…?” He could feel himself blushing. Why was he suddenly shy? It wasn’t as if he and Ignis had never-._

_“To consummate the marriage?” Ignis asked, a slight tone of amusement creeping into his voice._

_Noctis nodded. “Yeah. It, um, seems like the right thing to do.”_

_“The right thing to do?” Ignis echoed. “Suddenly so concerned with propriety?”_

_“Well, when it’s about you and being naked…” he shruggs._

_“Ahh, is that so?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Far be it from me to discourage propriety,” Ignis replies with a small amused smile._

_He leans to rest his forehead on Ignis’s shoulder. “Just one thing.”_

_"What’s that?”_

_“Just, um,” he pauses, swallows hard, looks away, takes a deep breath and then turns back to Ignis. “Don't be gentle.”_

_What he really wants to say- but doesn't quite have the words to articulate- is that he wants, no, needs, to feel Ignis on him like a brand on his soul. He doesn't quite understand the intensity of his need- almost desperation- but he thinks it must be exhilaration setting in from their defiance of duty, obligation and authority. What else can it be?_

_He expects Ignis to demur; certainly he'd feel that such a moment would call for a tender touch. But no. Surprisingly enough, he smiles in a way that Noctis knows, has always known: a small, soft curve of his lips, in just a way that he's never seen Ignis direct towards anyone else, in direct contrast to the request. But he nods, once, circles his free arm around Noct’s waist, slips behind him and noses at the back of his neck. Noctis can feel the chest rise against his back as he inhales against the spot where still-damp hair meets skin and exhales again. Noctis reaches his free hand back, pulls Ignis's hip closer against him, a sigh escaping as the evidence of growing arousal presses against the cleft of his cheeks._

_“M-my pocket,” he stutters, pulling their bound hands to fumble at his hip for the small bottle of lube he'd brought with him in hopes that their time bathing in the lake might afford the opportunity for a bit of fun._

_This, though. This is not fun. This is desire, need, love, a calling for gravitas. He isn't sure how he knows but somehow he's aware of an air of profundity surrounding them._

_Ignis tightens his arm around Noctis’s ribs and reaches to undo their pants- one, then the other fall. They step out of them, and he's pulled gently to the ground as they sink to their knees. There’s a soft plastic scrape as Ignis flips the cap on the bottle and the slide of cool, wet fingers between his cheeks. When Ignis deems him ready, he’s guided forward, laid face-down in the grass. The solid weight on top of him is comfort, stability. And then a knee nudges between his legs, prodding them apart. There’s a handpressing between his shoulders, holding him down, blunt pressure where there were fingers moments ago. In the next breath, he’s fully breached, crying out against the ground. His free hand tears at the blades between his fingers, nails scraping against the soft earth below. True to his promise, Ignis is not gentle. He thrusts like it’s punishment and digs in where he's holding Noctis down. In contrast, the fingers of their bound hands lace together, thumbs softly caressing. Soon, he's arching back against Ignis, who’s spilling heat into him like fire into his blood._

_He goes limp against the ground, Ignis collapses on top of him, again the stable comforting weight. Lips press softly where before there had been fingernails. Words, almost whispered, “I hope I did not hurt you.”_ _  
Somehow he manages to turn under Ignis, their still-bound wrists coming between them. He reaches his free arm up, his turn to thread his fingers through Ignis's hair. He smiles, languidly, and shakes his head. “I was half expecting you to insist on being all gentle and slow or something, like you were back...the first time.” His face starts to grow warm. “I mean, I like it when you’re rough with me and all normally. But this time, it wasn’t just…it wasn’t just that I wanted it, but…”_

_“There was something of an…imperative to it, something compelling?” Ignis finishes the thought, voice uncertain._

_“Yeah…” he said slowly. “You felt it too?”_

_“I did, Ignis replied, nodding. “I believe there was something more to that ritual than a mere promise to love each other.”_

_“Never be anything 'mere' about promising to love you, Specs.”_

_“That's not what I mean, but I would say the same for you.”_

_They untie the bonds, wash off once more in the pond, dress and return to camp, to be met by Gladio and Prompto looking worried. “We were about to come looking for you,” Gladio informs them, relieved. Once he ascertains that there is no further cause for concern, his expression changes to one of puzzlement. “What...were you two doing?” Gladio asks, clearly treading consciously in his query._

_“Bathing, like we said. And, well, you know...,” Noctis replies, cheeks warming as he doesn't quite meet Gladio's eyes.._

_“I...see,” is all Gladio can say. They can tell he knows something is different. They don't miss the glance he exchanges with Prompto. But he says no more._

_Prompto, on the other hand, speaks to Noctis later. “Something’s different,” he says. “You seem more, I dunno man. You seem almost like a weight was taken from you.”_

_It had been. For now at least. The weight of his responsibility is never far.Part of him longs to tell Prompto and Gladio. Part of him just wants to keep this between himself and Ignis for a little while._

The scene fades from vision, he recalls: that part won until Prompto eventually noticed a scar on his wrist in a very neatly symmetrical shape of the letter “I”. By then it had long since settled in. By then, he had a tangible sense that he and Ignis were somehow inextricably bound. He wasn't sure how he knew, but it was one of the few certain things he could cling to. 

_No mere promise to love each other_.

Ignis had been right. He always was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry that it's taken me so long to update this one. When I started this story, it wasn't so much a story but a loosely connected series of scenes that were their various lives. When I came to this point, it was a part I hadn't written, and it took me some time to figure out how to write Noctis figuring out how it all works. I can't tell you how tempting it was to just let Carbuncle be the exposition fairy. I didn't want to do that. So here we finally are. 
> 
> Since I have more of the other lives written, I'm hoping it will be smoother from here on out.

“Wait I need some time to make sense of this. Is there somewhere here...wherever this is...that I can go fishing?”

“You can go wherever you want,” Carbuncle informs him. “Close your eyes and be there.”

Noctis does, he feels a bit of a hitch below his ribs, something like when he used to warp but much more gentle. He opens his eyes and he’s standing on a worn but sturdy dock, his old rod and tackle box already waiting as if he’d just run off for more bait.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. I would suggest not trying too hard to understand but just try to remember and I believe it will come to you more easily.”

“Remember...what? I think I remember my whole life now.”

“Not that. Before. Back to the beginning. I am needed, I must go for now but I am confident you will figure it out.

And he’s alone with no idea what to do. Hoping it’ll come to him, Noctis focuses on fishing. He baits a hook and casts his line, getting lost in the meditative quality he always found in the activity.

His mind is clear, calm and mostly peaceful. He sits on the dock and allows it to wander.

Soon, pictures of people appear, unbidden in his mind. They’re unfamiliar, foreign, dressed in garb outdated a thousand years ago. Pictures of people he doesn’t know in a time long before his own. Except..there are two that he does. Himself, he finally realizes. And Ignis. But not. Could this be what Carbuncle meant?

A boy, no, a young man, with fair skin, a lithe build and a shock of black hair, wandering away from a baker’s, grinning hungrily at a berry tart that he’s just about to consume. Not paying attention to where he’s going, he bumps into a stranger.

“Oh, goodness, I am so sorry,” the stranger, a young man of perhaps a year or two older with striking green eyes and a foreign accent quickly fusses about him. “Please, let me help you.”

In the confusion, the black-haired young man had dropped his tart and stepped on it. “It’s all right,” he says dejectedly to the stranger. “I should have looked where I was going.”

“Can I get you another? The bakery is just there…”

“It was their last today. Thank you just the same,” he said, turning from the stranger and continuing on his way.

Noctis is left to wonder if they ever met again,or was it, perhaps, the first time they’d met in all their lives?

He sits back against a post on the dock, enough grip on the fishing pole to prop it up, dives back into his memory and recalls another, and another.

Slowly, he starts to understand. It’s obvious that he’s really his own past lives and the points where they overlapped with Ignis’s. With each memory, the overlap grows longer, he can sense a bond.

Slowly, slowly, he begins to understand how it work. He sees finally, that this bond they’d shared over time, this very literal cosmic connection is so much more real then the silly romantic notion he’d long thought. Something within them was pulled together time and again.

It started as nothing, a chance encounter, that accident with the tart. The first thread was tied.

Another life on, and they shared a common class in school, another thread. One more, and another, the weaving began in earnest, as each passed, they grew more tightly bound, until this life when they chose to follow the compulsion, became inextricable. They would move forward through further lives, onward.

Here, he has only to wait for Ignis. How long might that be? He has no way to be sure, nor of how long he has ever been here. Knowing what is to come, somehow he thinks he can bear the wait.

Does Ignis know, he wondered. How is he faring? Is he living. Is it a life to look back on? Will he have much to tell when they meet again?

And then he wonders what of Prompto? Of Gladio? Will he see them?

And he examines the patterns again, looks to the people. He doesn’t have quite the same connection with them. It’s strong, but never quite the same. They don’t yet appear in every life. Sometimes one, both, or the other. When it’s both, sometimes they’re strangers to each other though they’re never too far.

But, there’s Ignis. Always Ignis, and as the memories surface, he understands more and more, sees the threads connecting themselves until it’s finally just tangible enough for them to reach out and tie them, literally.

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a scrap of fabric. This isn’t the literal one from his body, that was buried with him, but it is a spiritual replica that passed through with him. It can be assumed that Ignis will come through with his own.

But when? He can bear the wait, but it’s not easy. Where is his love, his bound half? As…minutes? years? centuries? Pass, he grows more impatient, more restless. He doesn’t want to deprive Ignis of a full life, but neither does he want to keep waiting.

He casts his line again, hoping to distract himself.

Sometime later, he hears the padding of paws on the rough wooden planks. He can feel eyes, intent, studying him.

“It seems you’ve figured a few things out while I was gone?”

“Yeah,” Noctis replies without turning. “You can tell?”

Carbuncle ignores his statement of the obvious and moves to sit close to him, just in the corner of his peripheral vision. When Noctis also remains silent, he finally heaves a soft sigh.

“Have you caught anything?”

“Not for a while. How long have I been here?”

“In terms of the time as you’ve known it in life? I couldn’t say. Time flows differently here. In terms of how it flows here, it’s been a few hours.”

“You came back to tell me something.”

Another sigh. “I did.”

Noctis looks at the creature, the one he’s known for all his life. When no further information is forthcoming,  he raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

Carbuncle gives him a long, slow blink, then speaks again, voice much softer this time.

“Please come with me.” He says no more.

Something in the gravity in his voice fills Noctis with a sense of urgency. Dare he speculate? He jumps up, disregarding his fishing gear.

“Where are we going?”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I cried for like two solid hours while I wrote this chapter.
> 
> Also, there's a playlist, songs whose words have inspired me in part in writing this story. 
> 
> (The list is in no significant order)
> 
>  
> 
> [...But Not Broken playlist](http://8tracks.com/nerdy-g-104367/but-not-broken)


End file.
